Persephone not Daphne
by elsac2
Summary: " do you ever wonder the difference of ending between Persephone myth and Daphne myth? " he starts elegantly as he places a pastry in her plate and takes one for himself. for gothic klonnie 2k17( complete)
1. Chapter 1

**_three-parter story for #klonniegothic 2017. i have this minimum affinity for gothic so this might be parasthetic. each chapter matches a different prompt_**

* * *

 ****" _We've got a bond in common you and I, we're both alone in this world."_

 _Daphne Du Maurier_

* * *

"Witch?" a voice breaks her out of slumber and brings her back to a reality that she dreams to escape. This night is the apogee of a nightmare that has lasted longer than she can handle. She raises her head in search of her caller, but she can't put a face on voice that she has categorically refused to be familiar with, and unknown faces are all this group is to her.

A bit of loneliness nips at her heart at that instant, tonight she returns to her constant companion. Nothing she does not expect, loneness has been a steady point through the torment of those past months but now surrounded by stranger, and it has become oppressive. She can no longer handle a second more in unknown company that can't help escape solitude.

Bonnie looks at the group of vampires activating themselves around a grave. She sucks in the cold air around her and she fights to keep her eyes open. Silhouettes move in the dark and sounds break through the uncomfortable silence of the night, but she is impassible to everything happening around her. Transfixed by fear, she stares at everything and nothing.

Between vampires, trees, and graves she can't make the difference everything is dark and scary. Her eyes refuse the process of accommodation, they are afraid of what they might see, so she rubs on them until she has an approximate sight, but it is a pointless task, blurry silhouettes replace the dark ones.

"Don't be like this dove; nothing will happen to you if it goes according to plan." She jumps at how close the speaker is to her when the voice echoes all around her and she notices Rebekah's hand on her shoulder. It has been there for several minutes but she can barely notice the difference of temperature between the vampire skin and her own skin.

She pulls on her cardigan and tries to keep the cold away but it is pointless. The cold comes from deep inside her; it rolls up every single muscles in ice, and it creates strictures in her throat until she choke. She coughs and lets out a bit of that putrid fear which is choking her.

"And if it does not go according to plan, what happens." She stutters and clears her throat to regain some strength in her voice.

"What happens if I can't bring him back?" she makes herself clearer this time, she stares at the glowing vampire eyes as red as the moon above them.

It another pointless effort to ask because she has seen how failure is rewarded by those people. Rebekah is the only one who is a bit nice to her, and maybe that is why she indulges in futile conversation or it is to be less alone at the instant. Whatever the reason, for a fluttering minute it has benefits. Fear releases its grip on her fragile flesh, the pungent pinch less painful and she can breathe better than she could in the past seconds.

" you have been around us enough to know what happen to those who we have no use for, so I advise you to have greater faith in yourself. " the blonde squeezed her shoulder but her words only feeds Bonnie's fear.

What happens to those who have no use is death, which is not what scares Bonnie. Death and its aftermath are constant companions, what the witch is afraid of is the pain that precedes those deaths, she has never witnessed more frightening moments. her stomach churns at the thought of what happened to the last one whom failed, her cries still resonate in her ear, haunting those cold nights that she has to spend around dangerous strangers, anxanxiously waiting to be next.

In addition, the pain that follows when the soul is plucked of the body is excruciating. She can feel it every time with their last cry resonating for hours through a raging sky, a witch dies natures mourn, vampires are cruel creature how can they live with the act.

The aura that lingers through the air and clogs the lung, making it hard to breath for her and everyone around the death site, if just witnessing can be this painful, she dreads being a victim, but she knows that she is next.

Faith in herself, which sounds like something her Grams will say. Thinking about her grams reminds her that she is alone, there is no longer a Grams, and without her, there is heavy loneness, and a long history of mistakes that led to this night.

However, she has not been physically alone for the last seven days, but she has been alone for the past six months. She spent seven days in their company, a company she never asked for, and she has seen enough to be scared. Witches falling after failure, she is the only one left and once again, she is alone.

* * *

She withdraws herself and none of the other creatures around bothers to follow her. They are not afraid that she could seize the opportunity to make a heroic exit. She has nowhere to hide, no one to go to when she does escape, and too much to lose if she runs. She has traded heroic moves for convenient ones, heroism lead her to this moment.

She plucks the free thread on her jeans and she looks at them digging, she absently thinks about all the unwise choices that lead her to this situation. She was just trying to defeat loneliness, and she went to far.

Lack of wisdom is the downfall of a witch her grams used to say. Bonnie used to be wise but then grief arrived. In most situation, transient dementia has for companion grief and loneliness, so she lost her wisdom whilst trying to fight grief and loneliness with deranged ideas. She looks at the nest of vampire in front of her, even as powerful as she is, she can't take them all, and if she can then they still have Jeremy.

Jeremy is her circumstantial fiancé, but circumstances she chooses to forget after all she is still alone. Circumstances beyond her power, the laugh is cynic at the thought because there are so much of those in her life, this is just another one of those circumstances. She pulls on another thread and fascinated she looks at it when it unfolds and loses its blue color, away from the compact material no longer the same. Nothing stands unchanged against loneliness.

She should stop thinking about the past because the present has some demands, she pulls some more on the loose thread of her jeans and her fingers are freezing in this absurd cold, and she surely does not need a horror atmosphere to enhance how frightening her predicament is. Kidnap by a nest of vampire and forced to practice forbidden magic.

 _One, two, three, and four original vampires and plenty of less original ones_. How did she end up tangled in a web where vampires were the spider? Magic and the dark type one. The one only despair can push someone to practice, the same magic she has to perform tonight. As a witch, she is not average but she does not have enough experience to force the supernatural royalty to kidnap her. Kidnap that is how she ended up in this mess, that and her grandmother. It is quite unfair to blame Sheila but Sheila walking corpse can be blamed. Her last attempt at necromancy did not go as expected so she doubts this one will go according to plan.

At the thought of her last failure, tears make their way on the corner of her eyes and she can smell the burning corpse in the atmosphere. Strong smell always pulling her back to that horrid night when she had to burn the mobile cadaver of her grandmother.

She can animate what it is inanimate but life she does not know how to create it. Life asks for a balance, which she has no idea how to maintain, if she had found the way she would not be alone but those vampires around her don't care about such details.

* * *

She pulls more on her cardigan, it never seems closed enough, and the cold makes its way into her bone. However, it must be fear creeping from vessel-to-vessel, twisting her stomach, constricting her heart, and asphyxiating her lungs. She wipes the tears born from the lack of air and the constant assault of cold wind. She stares at every little noise in the forest of trees surrounding the grave yard.

"Witch." the voice of the one they call Elijah arises to ensure that she has not gone too far. She does not verbally answer but she makes her way back toward them. She pushes her hand in her pockets and drags her feet toward the group.

"Here, so you don't freeze." he places the jacket of his suit in her hands. She looks at him with a mix of incomprehension and gratitude.

She finds him so strange, who chose to dig up a grave in a suit, and she throws his jacket on her shoulders and places her arms in the sleeves. The musk attach to the textile is disturbing and she knows that no amount of clothing will keep the cold away. The cold feeds on fear and with every passing second the fear becomes stronger. She prays that her magic will not fail her, not today. She looks at her shivering fingers expecting to see the immediate effect of her prayer but they are still shaking.

" now from a bunch of witches that claimed to be able to bring back the dead you're still alive maybe you should focus on that. " he tries to reassure her and she offers what she assumes to be a smile.

Between her and the other witches there is a slight difference, she never claimed being able to practice necromancy but it just happened and it was not a success, the decrepit body of her grandmother enough of a proof. She remembers Sheila body roaming around her house helpless unable to carry a conversation. Just failure starring at her and reminding her that she was alone. She shakes her head to remove the emotions building up and the memories.

"Witch." Being referred to by what she is has become tiring, she feels like nothing more than flesh and bone when it is done. Can they make the effort to learn her name just to give her some familiarity whilst she is in their company? Witch, it is how they called the eight other girls that failed. Well it is too late for the concern of familiarity, she is about to join the other eight in failure. She sucks a deep breath and she refocuses her sight on a moving silhouette, her eyes fights to accommodate the lack of light.

"I think it is time." Elijah places his hand on her small back and pushes her toward the little crowd. She looks at the reddening moon and indeed the time has come.

She has used this type of magic once and success is debatable, she remembers the part breaking away from her barely moving grandmother, she remembers the silent moment when she stared at Sheila body. She remembers holding too tight on ghost, she remembers feeling like nothing without the love that her grams could offer but this moving dead body just stared back.

Her eyes close to stabilize her nerves and the saliva builds up on her tongue, it is a mix of bitter and acidic, almost burning the back of her dry throat. She wield her body into keeping down the rising bile, her Adam apple wobbles and she swallows back her discomfort as she also pushes the ugly memory back. Success that is what she needs to night for Jeremy sake, her own sake lies closer to death than she would like to admit.

* * *

It reassures her. She won't have to deal with the aftermath of her sins, cowardice another trait brought by grief, small alteration to her personality, constant with her burning grief. Somewhere between this instant and her grams death, Bonnie Bennett is lost.

She has heard of the creature she is about to infuse with life, he leaves carnage on his path. She has no idea how or what killed him but it was a good deed. Now she is about to undo it but secretly she hopes those people surrounding her will have to go through the same pain she did whilst she burnt Sheila's corpse.

The night envelops and distorts her small frame, her shadow expends on the ground further that it should, she notices details as such because it occupies her mind long enough to distract her from absurd plan that Bonnie Bennett would have attempted.

why does it seems like a mortuary parade, she passes the faces of people unconcern by her fate and her eyes sometime meets empty spots, she turns to face Elijah hoping from some reassurance but his face, expression and entire being have return to what he always was another oppressing stranger.

Transient comfort quickly gone, his hand carefully leading her toward the altar of doom. Not really an altar, Bonnie would have appreciated if they had worked on the scenery, it would have made her fear less ridiculous, but she is not mislead by the lack of ceremony, she has every right to be scared. She tries to recall her spell. She stands straighter and she pulls her hand out of her pockets. The fingers have stopped shaking ready to be put to use. through every emotion there is still some excitement

Two of the vampires that she never bothered remembering as part of the crowd pass her and they drop a heavy coffin on a grave. It covers by mud, crawling insects but beautiful encryptions still find the way to catch her eyes. She recognize the crest that almost seems burned into the wood, they are all wearing it. At the beginning it had her believed that they we're from a coven and they had come to bring her to justice for upsetting the balance, but after her kidnapping details were shared.

Bonnie looks behind her another time, Elijah hand has finally left her small back and he has stepped back and eventually disappeared in the small group. She sighs and places a hand on the coffin. Her fingertips plunge into the sticky mud and one of the multiple insect puncture her skin. She silences a small cry and presses to open the casket. It cracks open and a small light creeps inside to illuminate pale fingers.

He has beautiful hand she notices the weirdest things at the most unsuitable time. She hesitates to push further but hesitation can only buy her minutes. therefore she still waste that time just for personal pleasure.

* * *

"Witch." Now the intonation implies a warning, she does not bother distinguishing who calls her name. She no longer looks back and she raises her head to face the engorged moon, a red moon as a child all the witch stories about red moon terrified her.

Now she has become a protagonist of one. Therefore, the atmosphere is fitting, she pushes the top of the coffin, which unceremoniously falls on the ground and the noise is deafening, dust also rises and takes a beautiful amber taint reminding her of small fiery particles that fascinated her as a child.

She quickly retracts her hand as if the dead could bite, she wipes the mud on her jean, and then she tightens her cardigan still fighting to keep the cold away. She can no longer keep hell at bay; she has to go reclaim a soul. The moon will not grow bigger now that it is full and it will not fill itself of more blood.

"The ingredients." her voice is throaty, rusty cords trying to produce audible sounds. She does not even look at the being she has to bring to life; she does not want to have a memory of what she creates with her magic. She has no desired to remember the night when they ask a fallen witch to perform godly task.

A flask full of blood dropped at her feet, fire placed in her hands, biting hearts place on top of his. That is all she might need to bring life back into the dead. She looks once again at the moon, she is praying that it works, and she carefully lit the two hearts in fire a vampire's one and one belonging to a wolf. She recited incantation until the organs burns to ashes and the fire scars his perfectly conserves flesh.

The smell is cause of irritation, bringing old memories to the surface. Her eyes burn through tears but through all of it, the cold stays the worse. Words of precedent apology flashing in her mind and she is transported back to the night where the bone fire that swallow Sheila warmed her freezing body.

She squashes the thoughts to bring herself back into the present moment. The cold, her hair moves with winds, whilst nature hurls her to stop. It feels as if it is nibbling at her bones from limb to limb, the cold always stronger and that makes her stubborn, she wants to defeat it and scar nature by her act like nature did her heart. Sheila died trying to reestablish natural balance, then it only fair she fights such thing.

She calmly collects the ashes and places them inside the blood, some fly away carried by the strong wave of wind. She tells more incantations and brings the burning liquid to his mouth. She forces the liquid down his dead throat. Where there is a beginning of life being unfused inside his body, she is unsure about the soul.

His finger jolt and latch on the arm forcing the liquid down to his throat. His nails dig in her fragile flesh, plucking until she bleeds. she can feel something attach itself to her and she tries to push it out.

A loud scream escapes her throat and his hold on her becomes tighter. Her cornea slowly gains a new blurry shade and she can no longer see. She has given life to his body but his soul has latch on her body. he search through her mind, emotions anything he can graft himself to.

When green can no longer be seen, Klaus' soul cohabits with her. She slowly stumbles and they both fall. Part of the skin in her arm is torn but his nails still digs into her flesh. There is a choice to be made, she rather let him drag her through the path of death, or she pulls him with her back into the leaving.

It is a gauche symbiosis but his only way of survival. they have nothing linking them but a common companion. Klaus and Bonnie are both victim of loneliness. He graft himself on her, she awakens from her syncope.

The creature has turned her body into a soul incubator; her body won't hold it longer. Klaus latches at every space and after being alone for so long, the discomfort is unsupportable. He talks to her, spills thoughts and makes it impossible to focus.

"silence." she shouts in despair but he only floods her with more memories, with knowledge and he nibs at part of her soul with a threatening speed. It is he or she, he whispers idea how to save them both, he guides her on what to do and instructs what magic she should uses. When she stops being stubborn, she listens and they shares.

He is turning her into a portal between both worlds. She hears the wind hurling louder. The cold is expending faster but her new companion knows how to stop the cold. He distracts her with more memories. Most of them are horrific and scare her. He exhausts her with his thoughts, he feeds on her essence and her magic until he can make the lip. Then he is gone, he releases her hand and she fully collapse.

Eventually she feels that bit of her that she planted in him pulse, it clings on his soul and drags it back inside his body. She is drained when the essence of her magic invigorates him, fuels his entire being. She finally succeeded in giving life with a part of her. He still has to open his eyes but she knows that he is alive. She feels it with a part of her living in him. She has created a companionship, for a fraction of second she was not alone, he was there with her, and he pushed the cold away.

* * *

"Blood." She calls to the vampires standing behind her. She feels his craving sticking on her tongue, blood he will need a lot of it. It weird not to be alone in her head. She awaits but nothing, she turns to see if someone is bringing the blood but gone.

They are all gone. She is truly alone with him. It starts to make sense now that he is awake she is of no use, and she knows what they do to those of no use. forever meant to be the sacrificial Lamb.

Tears of anger built up in her eyes. She shouts her fury and the wind picks up, it is no longer to undermine her magic but it is to mourn with her. She wants run, but he grounds her feet, her decision made by another episode of transient dementia, he lured her with the warmth. She feels through that involuntary bond, it is comforting not to be alone; the cold is gone replaced by warm. He has not completely left her head.

She takes a spot by the side of that coffin and she waits for life to burgeon fully in him. It is ironic how all along she has been scared but now that she is aware of her fate, she is not scared. In her last hour, she won't be alone and when she passes to the other side, she will meet her grams. There is no need to cling on life when loneness has made the experience so scary.

It feels warm; she feels the warm expanding itself travelling through his blood. She patiently waits for his soul to attach itself back to his body. She waits to be alone again; she lets it travel through her. It warms her, it devours that cold who made her life impossible the past months, it pushes away the grief with that silent companionship even if his constant thought announce her doom. Blood, strong craving, her throat is burning; no amount of saliva can control such roaring fire. She whispers words and a wound opens on her wrist.

"Here." She presses her wrist on his mouth and she waits for the life into his body to crawl back to the surface. His lips latch on her skin and they suck voraciously. He sucks until the beats of her heart start faltering, and she feels his soul pulling away from her. The cold seems to comeback but she is not panicked, he will make it cease. It feels like a piece of clothes abruptly torn, the connection not fully severed, a little piece of him stuck in her. She removes her hand, if she runs now with a piece of him she can survive. She won't be completely alone.

"Blo...od ..." The sound is throaty, he has not spoken in months, and he feels everything and nothing in his muscles and flesh. He hoped to wake up alone but he is not. She has been leading his path back to his body. She stupidly stayed when those who know him left.

* * *

Witches he will remember not to underestimate them. He died alone, left on battlefield by his owns and he expected loneness when he came back, they are nowhere to be seen but he dragged part of her with him. He feels cold, loneliness never bothered him, but now he feels cold. It is all on her, he places his hand on his throat, and she looks at him fascinated.

"Blood...blood. "He has better control of his words but his mind blurred by craving. He cracks his rusty bones and seats to face his frozen victim. He knows picks up scent, his eyes narrows and glows with lust for life. All the small noises assaulting his ears until they become deafening.

"They did not left any." She answers calmly and she looks at him, he waits for her to run but she stays in place. Her voice has anchored him in the moment, and he slowly adjusts to being alive again.

"They left you." he says matter of factly and he places his slender digits against her skin. She looks at them hesitantly but she still doesn't move, and she stupidly leans closer to him so she can bask on that feeling of not being alone.

"They did." she confirms and she has already accepted her fate and the growing loneliness in her made her lean closer to staying. She does not want to be alone and he is here. She wants to lean on that bond as long as she can. She does not want to spent her last moment alone

"And why are you still here. Why are you not running?" he knows the answers, the part of her soul that he dragged with him has the answer.

"I don't run that fast and bringing you back to life has taken all of me." she whispers what they know to be lies.

"It is going to be painful but I will try not to..." He sighs and he sees no use to reassure her. She nods and she tightens Elijah's jacket. Then she remembers that he is naked. She removes it and passes it to him.

"You can still try to run." he attempts to convince her for the sake of those minutes of companionship they found and that has been severed abruptly.

She closes her eyes, she takes a deep breath and finally stops holding tightly to her cardigan. She breathes and she waits for it to happen. His arms surround her waist and he pulls her against him. He takes in the scent of every inch of her skin, she smells like what he thinks life should, a soft touch of sweetness, and too much bitterness hidden behind layer of soft scents, he places his nose on her carotid pulse and watches as the hair rises on her skin.

His throat constrict at the strong pulse and the smell of the delicate nectar. He breaks contact between them just to look at her for an instant. She still has her eyes tightly closed, he leans and drops a soft kiss on her forehead, and then he savagely latches on her throat.


	2. Chapter 2

" _You must come with me, loving me, to death or else hate me, and still come with me."_

 _Sheridan Le Fanu_

* * *

Her cry pierces the sky and she loses control on her magic, the cold she has been complaining about finally escape into the universe. He drinks from her and she clings on his bare skin. His flesh slips through her finger at the same time that life does. Her cries become louder when he pulls her blood viciously and drains her soul.

she opens her eyes to look at the sky and that engorged moon no longer frightening, it is almost welcoming now that her own blood flow through it. she scratches his skin trying to fight him off until her finger loses the blood perfusion and become cyanotic.

The colors are draining and dulling around her, her eyes flutters and her vision is blurry, there is a curtain of tears, and then there is pitch black. she slips out of consciousness. He releases her before he can quench his thirst, and he carefully places her on the floor, and then he cuts his wrist to feed her some of his blood but he decides otherwise.

He gives her a chance to fight for the sake of the bond, also because if she wakes up then he might not have to be alone. He also gives her a chance to make a choice. Getting what she wants or coming back and bear with what he will want.

Klaus observes her from the cover of the wood, his hunger still unsatisfied, his throat burning with the desire of the last drop of her blood, but he wants to give her a chance to a fair fight, a chance to prove that she deserves to be by his side.

He stands there patiently waiting for her weak pulse to retrieve some strength; he waits for the flutter of her heart to turn in a beating rhythm. He perversely observes her fight for life or her attempt to succeed into a smooth passage into afterlife.

Her fingers grazing the mud, her skin always getting paler, her lips cooler ready to surrunder the fire of life and receive the sweet Kiss of death. He is losing and she is winning, he could give her is blood and end the fight, but he wants her to come to him. she is moment closer to that warm death and the loving arm of Sheila.

He is a bystander, he forces himself to honnor her wish, and he considers it like paying a debt. Every second there is a whimper escaping her throat; he enjoys the sound of that raging war inside her body, her fingers twist and digs into the ground.

He hears the first beat of her heart drop weakly, not a sign that she is alive but she is still fighting. He eyes glistens with joy when he hears her coughing, she cries for air and she cries for life before losing consciousness again. He rushes back to her and finally feeds her some of his blood. She has chosen life, and life should be by his side.

Hours later she wakes up, her throat burning and her head pounding. She shout her anger, she cries her frustration. He looks at her from the same spot he has taken last night. Bonnie picks herself from the floor and she dreads that moment when the cold will come back, the moment when loneliness will retake its rightful place but all she feels are eyes on her.

"You let me live." She shouts furiously, she knows he is around, he keeps the cold at bay. She looks for him through the different silhouette moving around those dark woods but she only see a blurs when he speeds away.

However even when he is gone, she still does not feel alone. Maybe that is the reason she fought so hard to leave. the reason why she planted her finger deep in that mud and digged until she could root herself to life.

* * *

She looks back and presses her steps, her forehead drowned in cold sweat; the louds beating of her heart dulls every sound around. Her bloods is clogged by adrenaline hormones but she is alive, her steps are quicker, her action are frantic.

Once again, it feels like waking up dizzy in that forest, having her body febrile and feverish. She looks back again and those little steps echo through the wind. Bonnie refuses to acknowledge a presence that had turned into a threatening annoyance. She looks through the dark corners and single shadows hoping to find him.

"What do you want?" she shouts with no care of what the few crowd of people surrounding her might think. She is tired of him chasing her and haunting every second of her life. She has to be constantly in state of alarm, he steals her moment of sleeps, he invades her dream and makes life impossible, but she is no longer alone. She has a little company even as infernal as it is.

She is tired of finding open windows in the morning; she is tired of hearing steps when she is supposedly alone in her house. she did not sign for a poltergeist experience, she did not sign for any of this.

Klaus has not taken his eyes away from her since he first saw her when he awakened. Approaching her has become a challenge. Klaus is cautious, but whatever she lefts in him dictate his path and inclination. He has seen her almost die, he has seen her fight for every breath until life stick to her flesh, and her mortality has created a fascination.

She has fought every battle he did, she has walk the path that leads back to life, but he sees her wasting the opportunity every day. there is a minimum respect in the mix of emotions he feels.

He shadows every of her movements, through every second of the day he is behind her, there is that constant need to be around her. Trough crowded space or the privacy of her home, he haunts her physically the way she haunts him mentally. His emotions constantly baited by her loneliness. It is a morbid fascination, an indecent admiration, he salivates at the taste of her, but he does not haunt her over such primal desire.

Klaus preys on her, he covets the little witch, and he is trying to crawl into her life. Her scent still imprinted into his brain, as potent as when his nose flirted with her skin but only now, it is powered by yearning and languishment.

What does he want? He wants it all, all of her but he has no idea how to get it but what he wants more than everything it is to relive the high of the night when he came back to life. He wants companionship, he wants his mind to fuse with her once more and he wants an eternity with her.

"you." the answer comes out of thin air until he materializes by her side. She is startled but she expects him, she has come to expect him at every corner of her life. He grabs her arm and he forces her to move away from preying eyes, he drags her like a rag doll and he makes his way toward her home. They are both silent until they reaches her porch and she pulls out her arm from his hand.

* * *

"you let me live." Her voice is full of resentment.

She stares at him eyes burning with grudges. Her voices raises until it forces him to come out of the dark that serves him , he walks inside her home familiar with every corner. He is so familiar with the room that it makes her uncomfortable and she feels like a guest in her own home

"And you should be thankful for that but you're angry." He notices simply and he takes a seat in her home. She follows him with her eyes and she one again plucks thread from her jeans. His eyes focused on the constant motion of her fingers, he has become used to those small behavioral details that she has.

It is her emotional center point. each emotions has a tic, a specific. she plucks thread when scared, she bits her lower lip when in deep think, and when she uses magic her eyes are always tightly closed. there is way more and some he is the only one privy to and feels no need to share.

"You've been following me; you have been toying with my emotions and fears. Every single second of every morning shadowing me, every minute of every afternoon breathing behind my neck and every hour of every night watching me sleep. Anger is reasonable." She explains her frustration and she takes the seat opposite of his.

"You noticed but you kept silent. Is it so hard to be alone?" he looks at her well aware of the answer but he expects her to refute it by saying that she is not alone; she has the company of her fiancé. They both haven't been alone since she linked them, he is not alone in his mind, and she is never alone in her house.

The arrangement could be fitting for the both of them if he did not want more, but it is Niklaus Mikealson, he always wants and obtains more. more it is all of her for eternity, not simply a bit of her essence tightly attach to his life essence.

"I want you to stop." She breaks their silent peace with her unreasonable demand. He looks at her with incredulity deforming his features and he shakes his head like a petulant, he want dignify offense with verbal rebuttal, and then he proceed to walk around her house looking for liquor.

He pours himself a glass of her fiancé bourbon but the alcohol is of poor taste, much like the man she shares her life with. He looks at the golden liquor with resentment and places the full glace on the table near the bottle. now she no longer feel like a guest, she rather feels like a bad host.

He looks at her with a dissatisfied expression and he flashes in front of her. She takes some step back with growing fear in her eyes and sinks deeper in her chair. She looks at his eyes, golden amber and growing dark vein around them. He has no human disguise around her, he does not think that his true nature frighten her.

Not after she has been inside his head. not after his dark soul cling on her until he could taint it and leave a bit of him behind, and stole some of hers. That piece of her is growing bigger, it is yearning for her, and it is not one to suffer. He follows her not for pleasure but because there is need, there is craving.

* * *

"I want you to come with me." He answers her demand with one of his own. No amount of step back she takes seems to put her at reasonable distance from him. because it is not about physical position but more about how he mentally towers on her, it is the mind oppression that entirely distorts the room proportion.

She is used to having his eyes on her but she is still uncomfortable because she can't pretend to ignore them this time. the discomfort is strongly visceral almost rising bile through her duct. She stares at the floor until she finds the right words to say, he takes a seat by her side and she finds herself force to stand.

"Coming with you." she inquires carefully, she is still attacking her Jean. She shakes her head to remove the need to ponder on the demand. she refuse to let his words steers her attention on dangerous path.

"You don't have to be scared of me." He says tired of seeing her plucking her jeans.

"I have all the reasons in the world to be." She picks the glass he left behind and drinks what is left of the liquor. How is she going to say no to him? She still remembers the excruciating pain of the first bite, the torn flesh of her neck, life slipping out of her body. She prepares her magic and she is ready to defend herself if needs come. he looks at her eyes closing and he chooses to postpone violence.

"Is it why you stayed away from me, even when we have this bond?" he questions her softly, at the difference of her tense self he is at ease.

"We don't have a bond." she counters but the words are a complete lie.

"We have a bond, you and I, we're completely alone in this world without each other." He insists and he takes the bourbon glass from her fingers to put his hand between them instead. He looks deep through her viridian irises just to confirm that she knows that much of the truth.

"I'm not alone, I have a life and a fiancé." She repeats a lie that she has told herself the past six month.

A lie that has finished by becoming the circumstantial truth since that night she brought Klaus to life and she almost died. His sarcastic laugh is the only answer he gives her. She let go of his hand and she move away from him, he does nothing to stop her.

It does not count how many steps she takes to go further away, she will always feel as if he is next to her, she will always feel growing proximity. the only purpose of moving is to pointless tries to full the mind that there is some sort of control.

"A life that feeds on mine. You're growing in me. Turning into a constant obsession. I know you can't fix it so come with me. Dull the craving" he sounds calm but his emotions are not under control, he can't deal with rejection. now she takes steps back because she is scared of him.

"I can't have a life of my own; you have to be part of it, you're already part of it." His words come out as a plea that she has to resist. She only shakes her head as an answer but he is not ready to give up.

"You parasites my life. Your loneliness I keep it at bay. So why don't you indulge me. You feed on my emotion to keep away your loneliness when you could just come with me." He presses her and she is figuratively and literally corner against a wall.

"I am not alone. I am getting married in the next week." She insists on her excuses and he for the first time takes the distancing step. Her words don't hurt him, they simply infuriates. He has his mind made. The witch will spent the eternity with him, it could be willingly or forcibly.

"if it is only the problem. If you need to be alone to come with then. You will have no one left." He leans and kisses her forehead. He starts walking away from her but she grabs his hand to stop him.

"Don't." she pleads with him and she warns him at the same time.

"Then come with me?" she does not answer or show sign that she agrees. "Then be it." he flashes out of her home, leaving behind echoes of despair and the asphyxiating weight of panic.

* * *

She will never know what is the shallowest, her breathing, or the one of the man leading her path, but she can't stop wondering. They both make their way in silence, no words need to be exchanged in time where fear makes their steps hesitant, and when there are no similarities in their situation.

The man in front of her knows where he leads her, he is terrified and even knowledge is not comforting, but for her nothing can reassure her. She doesn't know why he will look for her after what transpired the last time between he and her.

Bonnie's steps echo in shallow and dark corridor, so dark than the light of the lamp emitted is imeimmediately swallowed by dense opacity. Her eyes painfully try to accommodate but she can forgive the inefficacity of her sense, hormones are rushing through her blood corrupting basic function.

Whilst her sight is poor and inadequate, her ear acuity is amazingly strong; she no longer makes the difference between the small sounds and the figment of her imagination. she jumps at any noise, and come close to a heart attack at every wincing, or wind sound being carried to her.

From turns, to new corridors and new turns, she has lost count of how many rooms she has passed. The temptation to ask where they are going only silenced by the fear to have her worse nightmare birth by the answer. Breathing uneven, heart pulsing at a saccade rhythm, she unhelpfully wonders what she is doing in this castle.

No wise witch will answer the call of a vampire, but wise she is no longer. Grief has a way of stripping people of their best quality, bonnie has not been wise since she lost her grandmother but since she met Klaus it is worse. and she will bet her life that her presence here can be blame on either one of those event.

after more hesitant steps, more corridors, and less darkness the man in front of her abruptly stops, he turns to face her and she straightens herself to appear bigger than she is, but she knows the task to be futile when behind the door there is someone bigger than they could both be.

She pulls the loose thread of her jeans and she waits for words to be uttered, she knows herself unable to speak, tension often twist her tongue, and she looks at the man hopefully he can speak for both their sake but nothing. He opens the door; he slides in, and then closes it before she can move.

Bonnie can hear whispers, she can see the flicker of light between the ground and the door. She looks behind and all she sees is an opaque corridor, that wooden door and the whispering voices behind it suddenly becomes more comforting. Therefore, she focuses on that flicker of light and waits, waiting is comforting.

She pulls more thread on her pants; she plucks them until her fingertips can't recognize the texture and her fingers twist awkwardly due to muscle contracted too long. She has been waiting less than two minutes but fear distorts time, it feels like a complete hour. She looks back and starts rationalizing, dark corridor won't bite, but what is behind that door can.

She hesitantly balances her weight on her feet, when she agrees that complete darkness is safer than what awaits behind the door but then soft light engulfs her, and then she raises her arm to protect her eyes from the light.

"Step in" her silent companion orders.

* * *

She finds herself standing in front of a dinner table luxuriously garnished and she wonders why the scenery still rises goosebumps on her skin. She looks around for the host but the original vampire is absent. Why then have her kidnapped another time if it is to make her wait?

She waits and every second just increases her anxiety. She hears steps and her heart picks up speed, she hopes this is the end of it all. He has stopped following her since their last conversation and she had hoped it was the last she will hear of him.

"witch." His greets her and his voice beams in that room with strong echoes. The word bounces from wall to wall and she remembers that like anyone else he does not know her name and she does not know his. She is the witch and he is the original hybrid.

She is eager to ask why he finds the need to commit himself to such cheap theatrics. The room is awfully minimalist, there is close to no furnitures apart from the table cover in food and alcohol, there is two chair. She looks around and she impatiently awaits to receive an explanation for why he ultimately forced her to attend his feast. She does not have to utter words when he pulls a chair for her and waits, she carefully takes the seat, and question leaves her mouth before he can also seat.

"Why am I hear when we already find an accord on the situation?" She antagonizes him but he keeps great control on his temper. He pours wine in her glass and he places it back to her right side.

"I thought we could attempt to know each other and then you will be more receptive to my proposition." He answers calmly and pours himself a glass of the same wine. She frowns at what he tells and she sighs.

"Nothing will change after this. I have done all I could do for you. I brought you back to life when it was seemingly impossible. What else can I do for you?" she asks exasperated that she will have to revisit these haunting thoughts.

Somewhere deep inside her, she will want to come with him but reality and circumstantial engagement prevent reckless behavior. She has learned her lesson, she is back to being wise Bonnie Bennett, dutiful Bonnie Bennett, even if inside her she can feel the growing part that will seek more.

That little bit of his soul left behind, that part keeping the cold, the loneness at bay. However everyday she silences it and she will continue to do so tonight. She is not one to be influenced by her creation, she is not a Pygmalion, and she believes in the Prometheus myth, bestow fire upon someone and be punished for it. She bestowed the fire of life upon him and her punishment was having a part of him making her yearn to feel more for Klaus.

"Then just enjoy the meal." He smiles and pours more wine in her and his glass. She drinks to indulge him, there is no exchanges of words between them, which makes it more awkward that it is supposes to be. She picks from grapes and silently eats but she can feel the growing tension, the shift in the atmosphere is hard to miss.

She can't breathe and she is restless, she looks at the wine wondering if he has put something in it, but he stares at her with indignation in his eyes. It is the first time that she notices the color of his eyes. Blue baby blue, he has made the effort to look human and she feels guilty for being so cold. Maybe just tonight she might indulge him in a sort of relationship, on last moment of companionship however he speaks before she can say anything.

" do you ever wonder the difference of ending between Persephone myth and Daphne myth? " he starts elegantly as he places a pastry in her plate and takes one for himself.

" so you brought me here for a history and philosophy lesson." she answers unimpressed.

" bear with me love, so where was I? the story here ties to your dilemma. " he continues now plucking fruit from the Charlotte on his plate.

" one became a tree and the other one had to live in hell, both victims of unwarranted attention from men more powerful than they were. " she indulges his antic and his only answer is a laugh.

" not quite , the perfect summary. actually Daphne wins and Persephone loses . same background story but different outcome because two different methods. " he continues explaining his takes on their relationship ship.

"Apollo gave Daphne a fighting chance , his arrogance made him bet on love , but she was prone to logic and duty. I tried the Apollo method and result the same." He taps his two hands together and the door open to let two men in.

" the truth in those myth the very difference is the size of the hero balls and their pride. Apollo chose the simple path , when Hades believed he could turn hatred in love, he gave Persephone no fighting chance . you can't win a battle you are not allowed to fight witch. Persephone had no virtue to hold on when hatred was guiding her decision." how good is a myth if you can take the lesson and reapply them. he has no shame on borrowing strategy of greater man than him.

"I will free you of those, I will give you nothing to hold on ...nothing but me and hatred, then you will have to choose for the sake of your mind." He corrects himself and her eyes anxiously turns to see who are those men.

"Jeremy…" she whispers and fear once again takes control of her body. She knows that something need to be done.

"I will come with you, just don't." she begs but he has his mind made much like her was. He has changed his plan, he wants her destroy so he has something to build on. She watches as he walks to the young man and he grabs his wrist, she expects Jeremy to scream but he is calm and immobile.

Klaus taps on his radial artery; he teases the pulse and sinks his craws in the tender flesh of his arm. He sucks the thick red liquid out of the young man. It is a messy bit, he purposely eat in such repulsive manner. Drops are oozing from the puncture wound and escaping Klaus' mouth falling regularly on the ground, as she observes the free fall of each drop she understands why he picked that minimalist room. The small dots of red on the carpet are mesmerizing, they stand out, and she can stop looking at those drops of Jeremy's blood falling and the sound always emphasized by the constant echo.

"I will come please just stop." He ignores what she says and continues feeding on the young impassible man. She looks at Jeremy eyes and life is slowly going away. "I will never forgive you, how does it serves your goal." She furiously asks and she tries to work her magic but something is wrong. Maybe it is the anguish.

He abruptly stops and she wonders if her words have finally reach him.

"I will come with you but you have to let him go." She still believes herself in position to negotiate when all she should be doing is begging.

"You must come with me, loving me, to death or else hate me, and still come with me." He says when he finishes tearing through Jeremy's throat. He is aware that she is far from loving him so she will come hating him. Blood splashes his immaculate shirt with slight dot and coats the finger holding Jeremy throat in place. Both Bonnie's horror scream and Jeremy's cries of pain mixes to create the most pleasing sound to Klaus' ears.

She can't no longer handle it and she summons her magic to attack him but she can't feel the habitual humming or the slow flow that indicate that she is taping in her essence. She looks at him lost and defenseless, all heroism lost before even attempting.

"I am not stupid love. The wine spiked with a potion. You want have access to your magic until you voluntarily wish to be by my side." He cleans his mouth with hands that even are more covered by blood, it is useless only help covers his angelic face with more blood, and he bits another time tearing his entire jugular and the carotid sheath.

He drags Jeremy dying body from where he is standing to her feet, and he drops it unceremoniously. She wants to drop on her knees to console the young man during his last moment but Klaus maintains her in place.

They both listen as Jeremy chokes on every breath he takes, Klaus grabs her face and make her focus on him. She opens her mouth to beg that he let her go but he simply wants an answer to his question. His face is still cover with Jeremy blood his finger are leaving bloody print on her skin. Jeremy is taking his last breath and she has to take a decision.

"I will come, I will come" it is a begging whispers. He leans and kisses her forehead with bloody lips, leaving one more time Jeremy's blood on her. He frees her and she drops on her knees to grab Jeremy but when she makes it to his body, cold skin kisses her fingertips; he is dead, and he has taken his last breath alone. She cradles him against her chest and she softly whispers his name. Klaus walks away from the pair and he stops at the door.

"Witch, he is dead and let me lead you to your new home." She stands and abandons Jeremy's body. She looks at him with hatred filling her eyes when she reaches where he is standing but Klaus is unbothered. he won after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**_i own nothing in regards of tvd_**

* * *

" _There is something working in my soul I do not understand."_

 _mary shelley_

* * *

There are sounds of feet running near her door and she wonders if he is visiting her. This is the third day since she was forced to stay with him. Since then despair has replace anger. Hatred as strong as she can feel it does not suppress her fear. She is no longer knows how to be alone, spoiled by his constant presence. She is used to have that piece of him in her head, forever altered.

However, he seems to have find control over it, he has extracted that little piece. there are whispers, a semblance of conversation and the voice grows louder. her heart drum with impatience, it is ridiculous but being left alone in a crowded house has traumatic effect.

She presses her ear against the door and listens to those steps that pass her door and the voices faints too. Hope dies with the last noise, once again left to her worseworse demons. She sits back on that bed and wallow in her loneliness.

She wraps herself in layers of blanket that never seem to warm her body. It is another day where she has to be alone with thoughts and guilty conscious, from talks to demon, angel and summoned memory nothing seem to entertain her enough to forget her predicament.

Recurrent sneak pick of him feeding on Jeremy constantly haunting her, that is how she tries to conserve a sane mind but it has the opposite effect. it is morbid, self inflict harm but it keeps deeper pains and fear at bay. rather have gangrene than completely ampute the limb, so it devours but does not swallows her at ounce like the rest of her thoughts.

The first day those memories bring horror, her entire being repulsed by the sight of Klaus' mouth sinking in the soft flesh of her fiancé throat. She often awakens screaming her lungs out, with her hair plastered against her forehead and cold sweat running along her spine. it takes her time to readjust to her surrounding and it takes her eveneven more time to remember what life has become.

Neck and forehead wet, panting and kicking at no enemy, her cries are ignored. He often passes around her room to remind her that she is not fully alone. it is a weird mental experience, when the noise of his steps fades, once again she remembers. she grabs a cup of water and then bravely goes back to sleep.

When red viscous liquid coats his craws, she always wakes up hurling for mercy. It is week two and the dreams are more vivid, there are also have taken a different twist. There are no longer horrific but she always wakes up in screams. all part of his perverse experience. how far can he tampered with her soul.

Klaus has taken the habit to sneak in her room, without her magic she can't do nothing against him and she is easier to mold. She is truly alone and she has nothing, nothing but him. His absence is to remind her that, but during the night he shows her what she could have. he shows why she should be grateful to have him a gate keeper of her sanity.

He comes at night when she sleeps and he induces the dream, they are no longer nightmare but dreams, Epicurean one. Full of pleasures that help her navigate through the empty days. He teaches what life could be with him in her dreams.

Jeremy neck a ripe fruit, his soft flesh as smooth as the sweetest peach. He bombards her with details recounts of how it tastes. She no longer wakes up in tears, but she wakes up craving of such pleasure. Her throat burn from the abrupt end of such feast. She drains bottles of water but she can't reproduce the feeling.

She can feel as good as he felt, he add twist at every visit, and he makes it more pleasurable, but consciously she knows that is wrong, still she voluntarily indulges and plays his game. Sleep is not an escape that she seeks at each instant because she still tries to save herself by maintaining the strength of her hatred; completely escaping reality is tempting and no longer being alone is the recompense he promises.

However, she forces herself to remember what really happened during the day but soon Jeremy is not enough to shield her mind. He comes to share moment with her in her dream even when he doesn't force his way through her mind. She waltzes between hatred and her building attachment to his being as he predicted. he will turn her into his creation like he promised.

* * *

Today she does wake up because the dream ended up in some gory manners, but she is impassible to the gore, every day she surrenders a bit of her to him. Every night she takes a bit of him in exchange. Whatever part of him that left behind in her is growing stronger and she has started to allow the change. There is a knock at her door, real sound not a figment of her imagination. She groans unhappy of the interruption.

She drags herself to that door and slightly opens. Klaus stands there with a satisfied smirk, seeing him physically reignite a need for a new fight, she refuses to fall so easily but he has already started dragging her down the rabit hole. However, he does not stay long enough to give her reason to be angry with him but it is enough to give her reason to yearn for his presence. That night he does not come inside her dream, everything she dreams is all hers, and then she can no longer ignore the sign that there is change in her soul, her dream emulates how he will want her to subconsciously think.

The next night, he comes back with a new version of the same dream, he improves the details and he lets her through his mind too. She likes roaming around his beautiful, epicurean memories still terrified about the horror he caused and still causes but she no longer adamantly fights the pull. Tonight she has chosen old memories, from the time when he was still innocent. Vivid color, pure air and the embrace of youth and freedom assaults her; she does herself the disservice of humanizing him. Tonight when she wakes up from his induced dream there is a smile on her lips, the first since the awful event.

It feels weird, the tension on her muscle, the emotion on itself but she doesn't press herself to understand. She is in a position where she prefers to hold on little hope rather than despair. Whatever the emotion she chooses Klaus can easily exploit it. The next night he chooses to show her more than she wishes for, it always starts with a reminiscence of the bloody feast. Jeremy body falls unceremoniously on the ground but this time she does not reach for him or even attempt to do so. She looks at Klaus excited by what is to come. He wants to check her progress.

* * *

 _She pushes through door of the past with him, through event that had lead to the birth of the lonely man she met the first night. She stumbles on a pair of cherubim running around a river. The beginning of this dream as beautiful as few other memories he has shown her. She looks around and he is nowhere to be found. When she searches for him all she hears are indecent noises from the bushes, a blush creeps on her cheek and she refocuses on the little kids happily playing. She assumes he is the one engageengaged in deprave activity but she is all wrong._

 _He finally makes his entrance in the scene, he looks frantic and agitated, and she knows what is coming so she starts panicking. She rushes toward the kids trying to sway them away from him but it is simply a dream that she can't alter. She tries to fight him but she is helpless when he breaks the first child neck and the body drops on the floor. The second one cries but the parent are too engrossed into their conjugal experience. He drains the second child and calmly take a seat on the picnic blanket of the family._ _he taps so she can join him._

Bonnie can no longer take it, she screams and trashes, and he brings her out of his mind only when she has a glimpse of the parents reaction. For the first time in three weeks, she wakes up her screaming and crying She is not ready and the changes are slightly slow. Isolation is working on her mind but not fast enough. She feels the minimal changes, the anger fully gone. The hatred is not real maybe completely distorted by the new dynamic. However, she is different and she starts thinking differently.

* * *

Her indignation over Jeremy death no longer real, just how she thinks that she should feel. The only thing still real is her loneness, but she no longer yearns grams, she yearns him. Therefore, she sleeps more hours everyday so he can come and visit, they can share the dream repeatedly until the loud scream turn in small cries when she wakes up. He sometimes offers her a happy memory when she behaves and does not try to save those children. One night he lets her lead where she wants to be and it is the first time she shares one of her memories with him.

 _It is a completely banal conversation between her and Sheila. They are talking about nothing and everything; she fills her mouth with lemon cake and listens to horror stories about unwise witches. There are warnings against big bad vampire that she ignores and some on free wolves that she will never remember. Sheila talks some more and Bonnie is comatose from a sugar overdose . Giggles and laughs feel the room._

She wakes up in tears like every other day but this time she is not alone, she finds him staring at her, and he takes her in his arms. She cries holding onto him gratefully. From that second, the smallest rage that she keeps is hanging on a fragile thread. He lays in her bed and let her head rests on top of his chest.

"Something happier, this time please." She begs as she plunges back to sleep. He obliges and let her through a memory that himself is afraid to revisit because it might leads to regrets that he will be unable to withstand. He chooses to share with her, a moment of innocent childhood. a time when he was an innocent cherub.

In the morning, he is gone but she finds lemon cake and a book filled with witches' legends. The next night he does not come back and her night is quiet, she is unsettled because through the violence of his memories she had found some peace. The night that follows he does not show up and it goes longer than a month.

Every night she hopes that he will come and bring with him his malice, she awaits for him so he can lead her on the path of more epicurean pleasures, but every morning it is the same disappointment. As result she no longer wants to sleep, he warned her that one day she will have to choose him for the sake of her mind. That time is getting closer, she is no longer simply alone but she is isolated. She finally understands the difference between Persephone and Daphne, she stands and pushes open a door that she has not dared to cross.

* * *

"Witch." He greets her without dividing his attention from his task , his eyes still focused on an unfinished acrylic painting. He looks as she only remembers seeing him her dreams. She steps inside the room before he tells her to do so; it is her turn to invade his space.

"Bonnie Bennett, not witch but Bonnie." she snaps because she is to familiar with him, he can't continue calling her by a nature she no longer possess. To Klaus she should be Bonnie.

She walks deeper into the unfamiliar room with her eyes trying to latch on every personal details. He continuous painting as if she never stepped into the room, but it does not faze her and she stops by his side.

"Niklaus Mikealson." he replies with his eyes still on that unfinished painting. She pulls a chair and sits by his side. They are both silent, he passes her his multiple brushes so she can hold them and pass the one he needs when asked. They work in symbiosis until the image starts taking form.

"What brings you here?" She turns to face his profile and there is no longer the past agitation or even hesitation that she used to feel around him. She swallows her first words and wonders what the adequate answer is. He does not press her in any manner, he wants her to think and come up with a decision. He continues placing precise strokes on the canvas and she passes him the brush he wants when he wants it.

"I don't know." She whispers softly but it is a lie, they both know it, and the real question is will Klaus have the decency not to point it out. He stops mid stroke and he puts his brush down. He suddenly has a strong interest for the conversation.

"Lying is not your forte but one might try for his sanity." He assumes that the lie is not only for his benefit but for her sake too. She looks at him with a small smile and she dusts of dirt from his shoulder. He is surprise by the confidence in her movement around him but he recovers quickly.

"I don't understand why I am here, if you chooses to ignore me." She offers tentatively. It sounds like an answer that they both will agree is close to the truth. However close to the truth will not be enough, honesty is already how far they have gone in this companionship. They can only move forward or regress in the point where her hatred could protect her. Tonight she chooses between whom she has become and who she was. Persephone or Daphne.

"If that was what really bothered you, you will have come earlier." He is getting bored so he takes back his brush and continues where he stopped. She looks at him hesitantly; why bit her tongue around someone whom practically has built her mind to his liking.

"I am here, it stopped bothering me." She passes him another brush and he continues working silently. He does not appreciate fishing for words and truths, he looks at her finger expecting to find them picking the loose thread on her pants, but they are just holding the brushes tightly.

"You still haven't answered my question." He presses back on the matter that interests him. She places her hand against his nape and she pushes a curl away. She tries to distract herself, the question he is asking, she still has to find an answer to it.

"Why did you stop coming?" she tries to buy herself more time but he simply chuckles to her unsophisticated attempt to push the moment of truth. He can indulge her and simply say that they were no longer need to visit when she had finally come to him. When she had finally accepted to share herself with him.

"It will be stupid to offer an answer when you already know it. Did you like the cakes?" he still offers her the time she needs to make peace with the situation.

"I did but I missed the dreams and what they meant." She answers honestly

"Why would you miss a device built to torture you?" He counters but they both know better. Those dreams he forced upon her were never such things. It is her turn to laugh at his lack of honesty. he is a better liar than she is but it is hard to lie to someone you modified so she could understand your thoughts.

"Was it or was it a way for you to share the weight on your shoulder. You brought me here because one night was never enough to satiate you. You wanted that understanding. You wanted a night to last an eternity." She outs his lie and she proceeds to clear the unsaid between them. Everything that had transpired between them an attempt to relieve a glorious night.

"So you understand why I stopped coming, but why are you here?" she nods and he restarts painting.

"There is something working in my soul that I do not understand but I hope you had the answer because you're to blame for it." she answers finally.

"And that scares you?" he sounds disappointed. However, who would not be when they see wasted potential.

"It empowers me." she boldly places her lips on top of his. The kiss on her part is hesitant; her lip barely perched on his, her hand not daring to get a hold of him. It is similar to fluttering steps on a transient journey. The restraint and restrictions of a lifetime maintaining her afloat when an unleashed heart is adamantly tugging her toward an unavoidable drowning. Then through the discomfort, the passion burn is path with the concurrence of admission, it is burning her throat as the air leaves her lung but it feels like breathing for the first time, so hard on iron lung clinging to each other that only a cry can free them.

Cry indeed a tear rolling down her cheek to perch itself on top of the cleft of her upper lip. It is the moment when she should tell him the difference between Daphne and Persephone myth. Daphne wins over Apollo but she loses her lover against pride, she has virtue to uplift. Persephone has the best of both world; she has her virtue praised whilst she still surrenders to her lover. It is a little humming but the magic that he had taken away is resurfacing.

She gives herself a moment of abandon by kissing him, that defeat all purpose and behavior learned an entire life, slow change finally reaching their apogee, Bonnie Bennett is no longer, fallen to a sweet death, irony of all tales kisses are supposed to bring life. Finally she kisses him, she is subdued, another maker victim of her creation but she has to compromise with what virtue will ask of her.

She is ready to strike him with strong magic and to return him to death when he bits down his tongue and profusely bleeds into her mouth. She is forced to swallow some of his blood and before she can attempt to avenge Jeremy and all those in her dream, he snaps her neck. He places her head on his laps and calmly continues painting, he starts patiently waiting for her to wake up so they can spend an eternity together.

She got it all wrong.


End file.
